


When I Return

by TatyanaIvanshov



Series: Versailles Missing Monchevy Scenes [5]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, Missing Scene, OTP Feels, Season/Series 01, omg my heart hurts, so many feels, these two are so cute im dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:00:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatyanaIvanshov/pseuds/TatyanaIvanshov
Summary: The Chevalier has returned from prison and they now sit by the first, talking. Full scene.
Relationships: Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015)
Series: Versailles Missing Monchevy Scenes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873663
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	When I Return

**Author's Note:**

> One of the most iconic Monchevy scenes is the one by the fire after the Chevalier is released from prison. But, just like every other Monchevy scene, it's lacking. It's not enough because the writers were horrible to these two.  
> So, I wrote what happened before and after that scene, while still keeping the iconic lines in there.
> 
> I literally woke up, felt inspired, and threw this together in an hour so it's short and it's not as much effort as I'd usually put in a piece but this is a nice little break from the Modern!Monchevy AU fic that I'm working on. That one is longer and almost like a mini novella with like a plot and everything. I can't wait for y'all to see that. For the first time, I actually think I wrote something decent, lol. In the meantime, enjoy!

His steps were hesitant and barely audible as he padded into the room. His eyes fell on the Chevalier, sitting by the fire, staring aimlessly into the flames and all Philippe wanted to do was run over and scoop him into his arms, but he kept back, reminding himself he was angry with the man. He did not want to give in to his charms so easily. Charms? He laughed at himself. The man is just sitting there and you say ‘charms’. But that was his Chevalier. Effortlessly beautiful and charming, even when all he did was sit there as if there’s nothing more beautiful in this earth than that burning fire. 

Philippe knew Lorraine was aware of his presence but was choosing not to acknowledge him, so he made his way towards the seat next to his lover’s and planted himself there. Still, no response from the Chevalier. He felt as if he were not even there. So, he got comfortable, placing the blanket nearby on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Lorraine whispered so low, he could have missed it if the fire was crackling any louder. It was more than an apology. It was a plea. It was his way of letting down his guard, putting away his pride, and showing Philippe how much he was willing to do for him. 

“You betrayed your King,” Philippe muttered, swallowing back the lump that began to form in his throat. He had to be strong. After all, he was still mad. Yet still, all he wanted to say was- You betrayed me.

“They threatened my life.” The statement left Philippe with more questions than before it was said, but it answered the most important one. The Chevalier did not do it willingly. He was innocent, and Philippe’s heart soothed at the knowledge. “They said you would sit on the throne if I cooperated. I thought this to be my excuse for not telling you.”

He wanted what’s best for me. He always does, Philippe thought, looking away from the blank face of his lover and out into the flames.

“I believe you.” Such simple words that meant the world to the Chevalier. “I suffered greatly in your absence.” Lorraine’s eyes met Philippe’s, both glistening in tears, in need of the other more than either of them let on. “I never thought of losing you. Even when I did, I thought I would not care. But… here we are. It was as if the world was drained of all life. Drained of all beauty and color.” He blinked away tears. “Upon my return from war, you said something similar to me. Only now I know what you meant.” 

“Philippe.” Once more, a whisper, as if he could not bring himself to say anything. He pulled himself together, attempting to gather back the tears that were threatening to spill. “Do you remember the first night we spent together?” His voice was devoid of all emotion, and yet his eyes held more than a thousand worlds. 

Philippe’s mind wandered, thought back to that beautiful night when the young Chevalier had asked him to dance. They hand danced the whole night, and for once in his life, Philippe felt wanted. Not like the spare. Not like someone they were obligated to deal with. This blonde boy, he sought out Philippe’s company and for once, made Philippe feel more than just a burden. Wanted. Dare he say, even cared for. 

They had run back to Philippe’s rooms and that night, for the first time, he had known peace. They had made love for what felt like hours though, looking back now, after almost 10 years, it was probably more like a few minutes, and had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. And Philippe remembered every moment, every touch and beautiful kiss. He even remembered how incredible his Chevalier looked under candlelight. Oh, so divine, the golden locks sparkled and Philippe had fallen. It was all it took. So simple. And now here he sat with that same angel. Had he been tainted? Or was that simply the result of his brother’s cruelty. Louis, his Majesty, had tainted his angel with all the lies and deceit of his court and now here he was, left to pick up the pieces. He did not mind. He would do it over and over again until the end of his life for his feelings for the Chevalier exceeded all ration and no sound mind could grasp it. 

“Yes.” He simply answered. 

“Do you remember what I said to you when we awoke in the morning?” 

Yes.

“No.” 

Of course, he did. He remembered the beautiful speech the Chevalier gave, ranted for what felt like forever and not long enough as Philippe lay on his chest, listening to the drumming of his heart. He loved it. He loved listening, loved taking in all that this man was, and all the beauty he held within. But he wanted to hear those words once more, to be reminded of all the reasons he fell in love with him in the first place.

“Henceforth, every day that I do not touch you, taste you, feel you, will be a day of death and mourning.” Philippe’s heart raced at the words, such a small portion of what he had been told that morning, and yet enough to bring it all back. He kept his eyes on the fire, doing all he could to keep tears from spilling. “I meant it then and I mean it now. I have made a mistake.” Philippe could not believe the words out of the Chevalier’s mouth. For the first time in all the years he had known him, Lorraine was admitting his wrongdoings, owning up to them. His eyes went wide as he listened intently. “I have offended the King, and I have offended you.” He said, as if offending Philippe was much direr, much more relevant than offending a King could ever be. “But my love remains as strong as the day we met.” Love. “And Philippe, the truth is, if you don’t love me, no one loves me.” 

Philippe’s eyes darted to his lover’s. His chin wobbled, teary-eyed, yet still somehow managing to be the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on. He couldn’t watch his lover in such pain. Philippe reached his hand out and took the Chevalier’s rubbing circles on the soft skin he had kissed so many times. It seems that this is all it took for the Chevalier to crack. 

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, tears streaming down his cheeks, on the verge of breaking down. Philippe brought the hand to his lips and left them to linger on Lorraine’s knuckles, relishing in the slight contact, however brief, that meant more at that moment after being starved of it for so long. “I’m so sorry.”

Philippe could not stand it any longer. He did not want to be mad at his lover. He hated, loathed the distance between them and that loathing only grew at the knowledge that this was hurting the Chevalier. He stood, not letting go of the other man’s hand as he approached, kneeling down in the middle of his lover’s spread legs. He gazed up at the confused eyes and his fingers laced with his hair to soothe back the golden strands. 

“My Philippe. My love.” The Prince said, a smile so sad, it made funerals seem like a happy occasion. “Of course you are forgiven. You’re mad to think otherwise. That morning you speak of, when we lay together despite having to get up for mass soon, the sun that gleamed in the sky… remember that? I knew at that moment I had forgiven all you had done up to then, and all you could possibly ever do in this life or the next.” 

“Your love is that strong?” The Chevalier asked in disbelief, leaning into Philippe’s tender touch on his cheeks and hands. 

“As strong as the day we met.” Philippe smiled. “Stronger.” 

Their foreheads pressed together as the blazing fire was gradually diminishing behind Philippe’s back, but not the fire that continually burned between them for an eternity. And Philippe did not mind. He would burn for his lover, he would suffer through the hell of the next life just to spend this one with him. And this was nothing, but a bump in the road to be overcome. 

There was nothing more left to say, not a word. So, Philippe pressed his lips against the tender ones of the Chevalier’s and felt him melt against him. They’d melt together just as they’d burn together, just as they’d suffer at his brother’s hand together. His heart could not bear any less and he feared he’d go mad without the Chevalier here every day. At the thought of his absence, tears streamed down his cheeks, chin wobbling and Lorraine noticed, pulling away to place kisses on the falling droplets. 

“I’m sorry.” Philippe hiccupped. “When I thought I’d never see you again…” His eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to think about it and yet it was all that ran in his head. 

“Shh… I know, mignonette. I know. I thought the same. In the moments nearest my death, the only thing I regretted above all was not telling you-” He paused, and Philippe’s heart drummed, knowing the three words that would’ve slipped if he’d have allowed them. “How much I care for you.” He corrected. 

“I know. I know.” Was all he could say. He knew how much he cared. He also knew how much he loved. How deep that love ran but neither of them dared to say it. Instead, they took each other’s lips once more and felt all else whoosh away, like there was no world aside from their lips, aside from their needy tongues. 

Philippe lay his head on the Chevalier’s lap, his arms encircling his lover’s waist. Lorraine caressed his hair, his neck, and face with the gentle touch Philippe had missed more than he ever thought he could, and at last, there was peace. The Prince shut his eyes and allowed the other man to take away all his burdens, all his pains for there was nothing his brother could throw at him that wasn’t bearable with the Chevalier at his side. With his Philippe, his lover, his angel, his weakness. His salvation and sin. And not a soul in the world would separate them again. Not his wife, not the King, not even the Pope himself. They’d find their way back to each other again and again for life was nothing without this man, but a fleeting moment in time. 

“Let me take you to bed.” The welcoming words came. They made Philippe grin, eyes already drooping as his head still lay on his Chevalier’s lap. 

“Take me.”


End file.
